


I Don't Know

by Typey



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typey/pseuds/Typey





	I Don't Know

Pete stopped mid-sentence, which was enough to tell Myka something had happened. Claudia’s dropped jaw told her she probably wouldn’t like it.

She turned, braced for whatever unwelcome circumstance had materialized behind her.

Helena.

“Hello. Welcome home?” Helena’s tentative greeting and diminished presence were so unlike the woman Myka had spent so much time studying over the course of their whatever it was. Myka had come to expect brash confidence or barely contained emotion. Anything, really, that radiated _life_.

The woman before her still had the same flowing near-black hair and carefully chosen attire as the Helena who had barreled into her life at gunpoint in London. The same arched brow as the Helena who had challenged Artie and Pete and the Regents — and even, especially, Myka — so many times.

But this Helena also bore a look of uncertainty. Whatever concerns Helena held back for the moment, waiting for a response, Myka knew they shared the same ultimate question.

“Hello.” Myka managed to reply but couldn’t manage the few steps it would have taken to reach Helena at the sitting room threshold. No one else had moved either, and Myka could feel Pete and Claudia’s eyes on her. Not on Helena, because they knew, they _all_ knew, how Helena felt.

Helena wanted to be there, at the B&B with them; wanted to be with Myka; wanted to chase artifacts; wanted to solve puzzles and save the day.

Myka knew, though, that her own demeanor had changed enough in Helena’s long absence that none of her team, her family, could have helped but notice. Pete had tried once, on the plane to France, to ask her if she was okay. She’d deliberately misunderstood him and replied that the fever from the sweating sickness wasn’t going to interfere with their mission. He didn’t try again.

Claudia had spent a conspicuous amount of time alone with Myka. Not talking or showing off upgrades to equipment, but the quiet time they shared was burdened with Claudia’s not-so-subtle looks of worry.

They all knew what Helena wanted, but none of them — even, especially, Myka — knew what she wanted.

The slightest motion of Helena’s graceful arm toward Myka released the spell over the room. Pete burst out with a series of questions Myka could hardly bear to hear — “Where were you? Are you back for real? Are you okay? “ — and Claudia charged forward for a hug as Helena tried to formulate any coherent response. Her eyes never left Myka.

Helena gently extricated herself from the arms wrapped tightly — desperately, lovingly — around her waist as she watched Myka retreat toward a chair.

“May I have a few moments with alone with Myka?”

For the second time, Pete stopped abruptly. Myka sat down at the table as Pete and Claudia left the room and closed the doors behind them.  
Helena waited to approach, giving Myka the chance to reject her overture, reject her. A slight inclination of her head was the only permission Myka needed to give.

Sitting down next to her, Helena began to reach for Myka’s hand. The motion recalled to Myka so many times before when they’d touched accidentally and the always surprising, no matter how often it happened, frisson had shot to the tips of every nerve in her body.

But not now, and she wasn’t even sure a touch could have awoken the nerves that had been dulled by Helena’s absence. An absence that had deadened her emotions. And plagued her with guilt. And had confused her and then made her angry. And then left a soul-deep despondency.

“I’m sorry.”

Myka knew the apology was heartfelt, but it did not touch her heart. She couldn’t let it, because the last time she’d let Helena touch her heart it had broken.

“Please.”

Myka knew what it was to beg someone she loved, but there was no gun this time, no risk of destruction for her or Helena or the world. Only the possibility of her shattering irrevocably.

“What can I say?”

The terrifying question Myka didn’t know how to answer, didn’t want between them.

“I don’t know.”


End file.
